I feel a spark today.

I’ve been feeling like my internal life and outward expression are a bit cliché and boring. I’m guessing it doesn’t seem that way to other people, but that’s because they haven’t been in my head and journal for the past 10 years.

I’ve focused on the same things, taken many of the same actions, and pursued the same goals for years now. Sure I do new stuff (traveling to new countries, learning to surf, moving to new places, etc.), but I remain the same person, and I focus on growing in the same areas of life over and over again.

And now I’m ready for some change! (I can practically see and hear my dad reading this, shaking his head, and saying, “Ay, ay, ay.”)

I’m ready to explore and cultivate the next expression of Annie Roseness.

I’m beginning by making some hard choices. There are a few big areas of life in which I’ve been finicky and indecisive. I’ve basically had my foot out the back door. That ends by March 31^st. I’m going to clarify my intentions and commit myself in the following areas: relationship, diet, and business.

Then I’m going to embrace all of the things I’ve been working on and cultivating for the past 10 years and declare them my own. In fact, I’ll do that now:

• I eat for optimum health.
• I practice yoga.
• I am the being of artist. I am the being of dancer. I am the being of writer. I am the being of traveler. I am the being of intellectual. I am the being of activist. I am the being of surfer. I am the being of transformation.

I am no longer working on becoming these things; I am these things. All of this constitutes my baseline Annie Roseness. I start from here.

So starting from here, who can I be? What can I take on? What is the next iteration of growth, expansion, and transformation?

What new adventures can I have? What new ways of being can I integrate? What new expressions can I contribute to our world?

In love and liminality,

Annie Rose

I almost did not post my writing today.

And I walked 5k instead of running 10k, sat in the car in indecision for 30 minutes, started and stopped 6 blog posts, and napped for nearly 4 hours. I didn’t get an ounce of work done.

I think I’m grieving. I lost a mentor and friend a couple of weeks ago, and a friend from high school died last night. I feel heavy and droopy like a dehydrated plant schlooping around town, dragging with it its soppy plant-parts.

What a strange analogy.

I know this is temporary, so I gave into the nap without beating myself up. I also acknowledge myself for going to yoga today, even though I didn’t really want to. (And, while I was there, I did my first handstand for several breaths without using the wall at all. That perked me up a bit).

And now I’m posting something simple, just to keep the energy going to and to keep my word to myself to post Monday through Friday whether I have something clear to say or not.

I’m working on being someone I can count on. I often break my word to myself, and the result is that I don’t trust that I can produce the results I want to produce. This often leaves me feeling like I can’t be the woman I want to be. So writing and posting this, even though my day did not go as designed, feels quite good.

Thanks for reading.

I wish you much beauty and peace.

In love and liminality,

Annie Rose

BE, DO, HAVE. This is a concept Landmark Education introduced me to more than 10 years ago. It changed the course of my life.

Mostly, humans do this backwards: we believe that once we have what we need, we can do what we want to do, and only then can we (finally) be who we want to be.

However, living life that way often leaves us waiting for a future that is somewhat out of our control and might never arrive.

The first time I experimented with being, doing, and having, I declared myself an artist. At that point, I had officially painted maybe 10 small paintings on 5×7 cards, and I had never had the idea that I could sell them. I didn’t have any training as an artist, and I had no idea what I was doing. I simply painted on a whim and found it somewhat interesting.

Several months after that, I found myself at a cross-roads. I had taken the Landmark Forum, quit my job in telecom, and taken a two-month road trip. I was back home and needed a new career. My dad said to me, “why don’t you be an artist?”

We both dove in head first. At the time, I was starting a year-long intensive leadership course with tons of people I didn’t know. I told them all that I was a professional artist. I wasn’t, of course, but I took on the being of artist. I dressed artistically, spoke as I imagined artists spoke, and took on the character of Annie Rose as an artist. I even stopped going by Annie and started going by Annie Rose because my full name felt more artistic to me.

Once I started being artist, I started doing things that artists do. I bought art supplies. I experimented with colors and mediums. I contacted galleries. I stayed up until 3 in the morning and slept until noon. I looked at the world in terms of colors and forms. And I taught myself how to paint (mostly through trial and error). I took every action imaginable that seemed consistent with my already-established being of artist.

Very soon after (literally weeks after), I started to have the life and results of an artist. I was accepted into several art shows at galleries. I was commissioned to create custom pieces. I donated pieces to charities. And pretty much everyone I knew related to me as an artist.

If I had gone another route—the route of have, do, be—I’m not sure I ever would have embraced the being of artist. I would have had to have so much—money for classes, classes so that I could know what I was doing, money for supplies, an art studio, lots of contacts, a portfolio, and so much more. I never would have made it.

Because I took the route of be, do, have, I became an artist instantaneously. In fact, I didn’t even have a portfolio to prove my body of work or that I was truly an artist when I was first accepted into shows. Gallery owners simply believed that I was an artist based on my way of being. And, I didn’t have to have the money, skills, or history of an artist before I could embrace a way of being that felt (and still feels) so authentic to me.

We can all embrace be, do, have, and I believe it’s important that we do so.

We can be wealthy before we have wealth, for example. If we be wealthy, we will take actions consistent with that of a wealthy person, and we will eventually have wealth. But we won’t have to wait until then to embody it.

We can be peace before peace is actualized in our communities. If we be peaceful, we will take actions consistent with peace, and we will eventually have it. Best of all, we can be peaceful in the process. (And, keep in mind, that being peaceful can look many different ways!)

We can be anything we want to be no matter what we have or don’t have.

Who can you be today that you’ve been waiting to be?

In love and liminality,

Annie Rose

One of the first pieces I sold.

A friend and me at one of my first art shows.

No really, it is. Carry on. 🙂

Before I knew the history of plantations in the deep south, I loved them.

I thought that the architecture was beautiful, and I loved the rich foliage and laid-back nature of the southern states.

But the soil of those plantations contains tears I’m not sure can evaporate, and I cannot forget that pain.

And so I want to say, I’m sorry.

I’m inspired to apologize by a man who, on International Women’s Day, posted this to his Facebook page:

For the millennia of subjugation, marginalization, enslavement, rape, violence and inequality that my gender has inflicted on women and girls and for the remnants of those horrors today, I am profoundly sorry and pledge to do my part towards a more equitable future.

His words struck a chord with me, and I told him he was awesome and thanked him for his words. He responded,

Thanks Analise. I’m sorry that we live in a world where apologizing for terrorizing over half the human population is so rare that it is considered “awesome”.

I deeply admire him, and I want to borrow his sentiment here:

For the millennia of subjugation, marginalization, enslavement, rape, torture, violence, and inequality that my race has inflicted on Africans, African Americans, and black people, and for the remnants of those horrors today, I am profoundly sorry and pledge to do my part towards creating a more equitable future.

I am deeply sorry we took you from your homes.

I am deeply sorry we stripped you of your culture.

I am deeply sorry we subjected you to brutal violence.

I am deeply sorry we took away your freedom.

I am deeply sorry we humiliated you.

I am deeply sorry we told you that you were not human.

I am deeply sorry that we forced you to work.

I am deeply sorry that we turned you into a tool.

I am deeply sorry that we used you, abused you, and confused you.

I am deeply sorry that we made it impossible for you to protect your loved ones and children.

I am deeply sorry that we scared you and terrorized you.

I am deeply sorry that we covered you in scars, seen and unseen.

I am deeply sorry for everything, especially all of the injuries I cannot see and will never know.

I am deeply sorry, and I pledge to do my part.

In love and liminality,

Annie Rose

Today I talked to my dear friend Lainie. We have been friends since kindergarten, and she is one of my dearest people.

We were catching up on many areas of life—work, love, business, and personal growth—and she mentioned the power of painting a crystal clear picture of the future so that a new future can actualize.

Her words reminded me of one of the most powerful aspects of the Being a Leader course I did in Kenya: creating a future and standing in that future to inform action and inspire integrity.

Here’s what that means:

We all have a past, yes? We have a collection of experiences that come together to make us who we are today. We take actions consistent with who we think we are, and we often create future goals that are an extension of our past. This is normal for the human brain, and all human beings are prone to do it.

But Landmark says: Hold up. It’s actually not our pasts that make us who we are today. It is our future that makes us who we are. It is our future that gives us being in the present.

Say what?

They give us this example:

You’re at your office. It’s Friday morning. You have TONS of work to do before you leave for the day, but you have a plane ticket to go to Hawaii, and you leave tomorrow morning. How are you? You’re excited, happy, and even relaxed. You’re at work. You have tons to do. But you’re excited, happy, and free. You have Hawaii in your future.

Fast forward 6 days. You’re on the beach in Hawaii. You have one of those little drinks with an umbrella in it. The sun is shining, the scenery is beautiful, and you still have a full afternoon of fun on the island. However, you have a plane ticket that’s taking you back to the fluorescent lights and business of the office, and you leave in the morning. How are you? You’re sad and disappointed. You’re in Hawaii, but you’re totally poo-faced (ok, poo-faced is my term). Your office is your future.

Who you are today, right now, in this moment, Landmark says, has nothing to do with your past, but instead the future you’re living into. The future of your mind’s eye actually contributes to how you feel, what you think, and what actions you take today.

 So why does it look like the past? Landmark asks. It looks like the past because the past is not in the past where it belongs, it’s in the future.

 We project our experiences of the past into our future, and our future becomes mired in and designed by the past. Our lives—the collective of our feelings, thinking, and acting—begin to look eerily like the past, even if they are slightly better versions of them.

And that’s crazy, yo!

There is so much more possible for us as human beings. We can be exactly who we create ourselves to be, and we can align our actions and integrity with our created selves. Lovely, eh?

This weekend, I’ll be creating futures for myself in numerous areas. I’ll share them next week and also give you some tips for creating your own!

Until then!

In love and liminality,

Annie Rose

Depression runs in my family. For years of my life, I’ve struggled at various moments to keep my head above water. One time, I stayed in bed for a good part of 3 months. Another time, I moved through daily life, slowly and sluggishly, in various shades of grey, until colors finally reappeared. Those big depressions lasted for months; others lasted for weeks or just days.

I went on medication once for a short amount of time, but soon decided to heal my depression naturally. (I know that’s not the right step for everyone, and I honor other people’s use of medicine.)

In the course of my journey, I learned a lot about my triggers, and I do a lot to limit them.

Recently, however, I’ve been focusing more on triggering happiness and releasing endorphins and less on avoiding depression. It’s a simple switch in context, really.

Here are some of my favorite happiness and endorphin triggers:

Sweaty Running: no matter how tired or resistant I am, I push myself to run a few times per week. I run 4 to 7 miles, and I get nice and sweaty. I love to run outside and explore neighborhoods by foot. Sometimes I listen to great music; other times I brainstorm and do some critical thinking. Running clears my mind and makes my body happy.

Strong Yoga: Not fast yoga, but strong yoga. I need time to settle into a pose and breathe. I love to challenge my muscles, push my mind beyond its limits, and feel like I worked hard after class. Yoga increases my circulation, releases physical tension, and gives me time and space to connect my mind with my body. It also helps me get out of my mind and body. Sometimes I practice at home by myself, and other times I seek the guidance of awesome teachers.

Peaceful or Pummeling Surfing: Whether I’m easily catching waves or getting pummeled by waves beyond my skill level, surfing invigorates me. Plus I get to see dolphins and seals and spend time in Mama Ocean. And surfing provides me with endless insights about myself and my life.

Deliciously Healthy Food: I love healthy food. Whole foods work best for my body, and I prefer to eat light, nutrient-dense foods. Sometimes I’m challenged in this area, but I enjoy the process of refining my diet and giving my body good health.

Loved Ones: I don’t have anyone in my life who I don’t consider a loved one. My friends are funny, honest, straight forward, trustworthy, creative, and loyal. They’re also people who have the capacity to really be with me and all of life. I am incredibly blessed with amazing friends and family.

Keeping It Simple: I dig simplicity. Having walked across Spain twice and spent months on the road or in tiny places, I’ve learned to surround myself with things I love or need. I deep-clean my house regularly and go through everything I own twice per year. I let go of attachment to material things (I have nothing against material things—they’re just not my jam), and I keep my spaces organized and clean.

Travel to Other Countries: Traveling and getting out of my comfort zone makes me so happy. I talk to locals, take public transportation, eat street food, and go on adventures.

Giving Myself Space: I let myself be who I am. This means that sometimes I do get messy and disorganized. Sometimes I shop too much. Sometimes I take a nap instead of going to yoga. Sometimes I fall into the trap of depression triggers and avoid happiness triggers. But I practice loving myself through all of it and giving myself space to fully live life.

Being Intimate: Intimacy is super important to me. I need to connect with human beings. I need to have real conversations. I love meaningful, in-depth, heart-felt conversations. I love looking into people’s eyes. I love being of service. I love loving and being loved. I infuse my relationships and interactions with people (strangers included) with love and intimacy as often as possible.

These are just some of the many things I do to induce happiness and endorphins. I also dance, smell roses (they’re everywhere in L.A.!), play board games, and so much more.

With love and liminality,

Annie Rose